


Black Arrow

by ThreeLittleDucks



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Colonist (Mass Effect), Sentinel (Mass Effect), Shepard is THE badass, Vanguard (Mass Effect), War Hero (Mass Effect)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2018-12-30 21:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12117459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeLittleDucks/pseuds/ThreeLittleDucks





	1. Beginning

Time, mused Captain Benson, was a strange beast. The ships clock insisted that the Alliance cruiser, SSV Athens, had only been in system for only an hour. But to him it felt like a small portion of eternity

One hour since the traffic control of the asari colony had contacted his ship and desperately told them to avoid any normal approach vector. Since he learned that a group of fanatics had hijacked a freighter loaded with heavy metals and parked it in low orbit over the colony’s largest population center. And threatened to discharge the cargo if there demands weren’t met. Demands that were impossible to meet.

Negotiators had been talking with the leader of the terrorists for hours and getting nowhere. The Athens could easily destroy the unarmed freighter. But the destruction would rain debri on the colony. A squad of marines could attempt to board the ship and disable it, but the terrorists had thought ahead and deployed reconnaissance probes in the space around the ship. Any approaching shuttle would be detected.

Forty five minutes ago, a young marine lieutenant had approached him with a plan. The probes would detect a shuttle. But not something the size of a human.

Thirty minutes ago, ten of the bravest men and women he had the privilege of knowing stepped into the Black wearing nothing but standard issue hardsuits.

 

“Sir, Matriarch Beryn is signaling us. The terrorists have contacted her, she’s sending us the feed.”

“Put it through.” The CIC’s main holo tank lit up. On one side, Matriarch Beryn, the leader of the colony. On the other, an unidentified asari terrorist.

“You’ve delayed long enough.”

“I’m sorry but it simply isn’t…”

“I’M TIRED OF YOU EXCUSES!” The terrorist screamed, leaning in close enough to that the captain could clearly see her eyes were bloodshot. “If you think I lack the resolve to follow through with my threats then I will have to prove otherwise.” The asari stepped out of view momentarily, before dragging another asari into view, this one wearing the uniform of the freighters crew.

“Please,” the crew women whimpered, face mottled with bruises, lip split. “Please don’t.” The terrorist drew her pistol, raising it to the hostage’s head.

A spray of purple obscured the camera.

 **‘“GO, GO, GO!”**  A voice shouted, a _human_ voice. Chaos raged, obscured by the blood on the camera. Guns roared and people screamed. And then it was quite.

“Captian. Transmision from the strike team.”

 

“This is Shepard. Objective secure. No civilian casualties.”

The captain stiffened, eyes fixed on the blood stained image still on display. “Confirm that last.”

The display shifted, now showing the freighter's bridge from a wide angle. Immediately he looked for and found the hostage whose face had filled his display only moments before. She was sitting up no worse than before, while the body of her captor lay beside her missing its head. Alliance marines moved among the other hostages, untying them and applying medigel.

“Thank the Goddess.” Captain Benson’s attention turned to the forgotten matriarch. More reports came from his crew. The freighter was breaking orbit and rotating so its cargo doors faced away from the planet. But it was in the back of his mind as he watched the matriarch’s expression, which had been carved from stone in every transmission he’d seen, break as tears welled in her eyes.

 

“Excellent work, Lieutenant.” Benson’s own voice a little broken. “I believe Matriarch Beryn will wish to thank you personally.”

 

“Just doing my job, sir.” Was her reply.


	2. Havoc

The sentry’s shift was coming was coming to an end and he was patiently waiting for his relief in the dark. Turian boot camp, and the compulsory service that followed had instilled that much discipline in him. Service he had left, when the Hierarchy had negotiated _peace_ with a bunch of primitives. He resisted the urge to snarl as the scar on his hip itched. A farewell gift from a human sniper before his unit had bombarded its position with…

The sentry turned, raising the thermal scope of his rifle to eye level. He thought he heard something. Scanning the cliff he was standing on through the orange hued environment, he never saw the flare of blue behind him.

 

Dexaria Acatus, Cabal five six three, pulled her knife from the sentry’s throat before gently lowering his body to the ground. She turned to see if the rest of her team needed assistance and was quietly grateful they did not. Her mixed species team, consisting of turian biotics and human special operatives, had been a nearly last minute decision by her kabalim. Not they had much choice, not after an Alliance cruiser had cornered there transport and demanded to know what the hell they thought they were doing in human controlled space. That had been embarrassing.

The kabalim had explained that they were tracking a faction of the turian military that had deserted. A full company’s worth of soldiers had deserted and were determined to restart what the humans had termed the First Contact War. They had managed to take a number of nuclear munitions and were fitting a number of shuttles to be remote piloted throughout Alliance space and detonated. Needless to say the cruiser’s commander had agreed the situation needed to be handled quickly and quietly. And with human supervision.

Still after being “caught with their hand in the cookie jar”, to use a human phrase, Acatus had to admit that getting a quite escort was much better than trying to dodge Alliance patrols. Even if she had to work with humans in the field.

The last of the team, and the reason she was glad no one needed assistance, pulled herself onto the cliff and raised herself to full height. As tall as any turian, taller in fact than Acatus herself, but not nearly as slender, the officer that had been assigned as her team's leader did a quick headcount before turning to Acatus. “Report.”

“Just the one sentry, and I didn’t give him time to sound the alarm.”

“Good.” The lieutenant commander said, before checking the time. “Sixty seconds until Raptor is in position.”

Acatus, like everyone else, checked the her clips and waited. Raptor, one of two terms agreed upon that translated well between turian and human dialects for squad names, was the all stealth portion of the operation. Their job was to slip in the back of the mining facility and eliminate the renegades leader, while Acatus’s squad, Havoc squad, kicked on the front door.

The commander activated her armors holographic plating. Then held up one hand, her five fingers spread. Four. Three. Two. One.

 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

 

Intel had screwed up.

They had gone in expecting a company caught unawares. Havoc squad ran into twice that with heavy weapons support.

Acatus cussed as another rocket slammed into the cargo container she had ducked behind. Two machine guns walked fire across the cavern. And her radio buzzed with the cries of her squadmates.

**“Shields are down!”**

**“Watch the snipers!”**

**“Johannesburg, we need emergency extraction.”**

**“Shit my leg!”**

**“COME HERE SO I CAN FUCK YOU UP!”**

 

Acatus watched as the human LC’s biotics flared. With a flash, she was across the room and right on top of one of the machine guns. The heavy weapon roared missing the commander by inches. She grabbed the gunner and pulled him over his weapon and slammed him face first into the ground. Then she tore the heavy weapon out of its housing and in another flash was on top of an ore hopper, raining death on the enemy, laughing.

Acatus cheered as the tide suddenly turned, the choked back a scream as a rocket flew at the commander. It slammed into the human, shrapnel bouncing of the rocks. **“OH, DON’T WANT TO FEEL LEFT OUT. HUH?”** The commander, somehow unscathed by the blast, turned her weapon on the renegade who _dared_ think he could harm her.

 

“Johannesburg. Cancel that extraction.”


	3. Guardian

Fogan grumbled as he bounded up the mountainside. The human colonies defenses had come online faster than anyone had thought possible. Anti-air turrets had forced the shuttles down well short of the raiders goal. It wouldn’t matter though, the battarian thought as he guide his VI drone forward to scout the path ahead. His feet shettled morer firmly on the ground as he entered the colony’s artificial gravity field, and  he grinned nastly. A few hundred of the nastiest cutthroats the Terminus had to offer were about to knock on the door.

Gunfire rang out and the drone dropped from the sky as bullets tore through its hardlight shell. “Shit.”

“How many.” Jurdon Grasht, the krogan tasked with heavy weapons asked.

Fogan quickly reviewed the last moments of the drone’s footage. “Just one. Human in a hardsuit.”

“Heh.” Grasht hefted the autocannon he was carrying and let loose a short burst. Explosions rippled along the side of the mountain.

 

_ “Missed me.” _ A female voice taunted over the radio.

“I won’t miss a second time.” Grasht taunted back. “Yield, human. And maybe I won't make a teacup out of your skull.”

Forgan groaned. Fucking krogan. He brought up his omnitool to reboot his drone and froze as he saw what channel the human was using.

_ “Yield?”  _ The human sounded incredulous. _ ”Let me tell you something _ krogan _.” _ It was his squads tactical link.  **She was in their suit computers!**

_ “My name is Shepard.”  _ Electricity exploded from the raiders hardsuits as their shield capacitors overloaded. A bolt of blue streaked across the mountain and slammed into the krogan staggering him.

“And I” The human lunged forward, the muzzle of her shotgun finding its way under Grasht’s chin and up into his neck.

**“Do NOT.”** The shotgun roared and Grasht when down, high velocity pellets tearing into his neck and spine.

**“YIELD.”** It had only taken moments. Forgan had only just begun to cycle commands into his omnitool, desperately trying to bring his depleted shields back online. The human took three quick steps until she was deep among the raiders, panicked fire absorbed harmlessly by her barriers, and glowed blue. It was the last thing Forgan saw before a wave of biotic force hit him.

 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

 

“What is happening?” Elanos Haliat screamed. His massed fleet had dropped out of FTL at an almost suicidal distance from Elysium. Mass drivers had fired at the same time as shuttles launched, intending to terrorize the colony into submission. That was when everything had gone wrong. The shuttles had barely cleared the orbital defense platforms, which were supposed to be down for maintenance, came online forcing his ships to break orbit. Anti-air turrets around the colony’s main settlement had forced the shuttles to land outside the perimeter. And now his forces were reporting heavy resistance from what was supposed to be an understrength garrison.

 

“Boss. An Alliance task force just dropped out of FTL. The...Spirits.” Haliat starred at the broken down display in front of him. The ship he was commanding from was a second hand batarian cruiser on its last legs and one of only three purpose built warships in his fleet. A fleet that was no match for the mass of threat icons that filled his display. Terror gripped him as one of the threat indicators exploded into a mass of small slivers of hate, one of the Alliance’s damned fighter carriers unleashing its fury.

“Get us out of here.”

“Boss?”

“We can stay and die or run and live.” Haliat growled out. “I’m not dying at the hands of the Alliance.”

 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

 

Major Jeremiah Walker surveyed the carefully organised chaos as Alliance Marines hit the ground running. There were a thousand things to do in order to secure the colony and flush out the last of the scum who thought they could just rape one of humanities worlds.

“Major.” Walker turned to see a rather portly man bustle up to him. “Major, so, so very wonderful to see you. Very wonderful indeed.” Walker opened his mouth to speak but the man continued to speak. “Victor Iman. Mayor of this fine settlement. Although it usually looks better than it does right now. Though it could have been much worse, much much worse. Thankfully one of your marines was here to put things in order. Got everyone moving in the right directions. Need to thank her for that. Ah. What was her name again? Amanda?”

Walker turned his attention to the young woman who had followed in the mayors wake. She glanced up from her omnitool for a moment. “She introduced herself as Lieutenant Commander Shepard, Mr Iman.”

“Could you tell me where she is now?” A first hand account of events, from an experienced marine no less would be invaluable.

“Not exactly sir. She left to secure the western perimeter almost three hours ago.”

Walker paled. “The  _ western _ perimeter? How many did she take with her?”

“As far as I know she went by herself.”

“Miss sensor reports indicate enemy strength in that area was almost at battalion level.” Walker said.

Mr. Iman cleared his throat. “Battalion? Is that a lot?”

“She would have been outnumbered at least three hundred to one.” Walker whispered.

“I, I see.” Mr. Iman stammered. “I...Mother of God.” His eyes widened as he stared at something past Walkers shoulder.

 

It was suddenly too quiet. The din of hundreds of people in a small area faded to nothing as Walker turned and saw her. For a brief moment the tall woman was another marine to his eyes, but as she walked towards him that image changed. Her holographic armor flickered and one of the plates failed completely. Another step and he saw the palette of alien blood staining her hardsuit. Another, he saw whips of smoke rising from her body, remnants of incendiary rounds that had managed the bypass the deceptively soft glow of her biotics. Another step and hands went up to remove the cracked helmet from her head, before smoothing back sweat slicked strands of dark blonde hair. A final step, and she raised her hand in a salute, eyes like a storm at sea meeting his. “Western perimeter is secure sir.”

As if she were just another soldier. Not, not...

“Nike.” came the whisper from the silent crowd.


	4. Chosen

Udina leaned back in his chair and resisted the urge to glare at the men sitting across the table from him. While all three men understood the importance of the decision before them, it was clear that the two military men were either ignorant or in complete disregard of the political realities regarding the selection of humanity’s first Spectre. More likely the former.

Admiral Steven Hackett, well respected in the Alliance, had enough experience to know better. And Anderson. Udina rubbed his temples in an attempt to forestall the migraine he could feel coming. Udina felt is was a mistake involving the captain, considering his past experiences with Spectres.

“All right.” He sighed, reaching for his datapad and scanning down the list of names. Many had been easy to eliminate.One had been so clearly xenophobic that is was a wonder he had even nominated in the first place. Others, the three men had split hairs over details wasting hours, days even, arguing. Udina’s eyes came to a rest on the next name on the list. “Commander Melody Shepard.”

Hackett and Anderson shared a glance and Udina felt his heart sink. He had heard of the commander,of course. Anyone who’d paid even the slightest attention to galactic news in the past decade had heard of her. The Alliance didn’t hand out the Star of Terra like it was candy. Unfortunately, no one in their right mind would call her politically sensitive.

“No mention of any family.”

“She’s an only child.” Anderson said, not even looking at his notes. “Born and raised on Mindoir. She lost her parents in a batarian slave raid in 2170.”

“No other family?”

“A grandmother.” Hackett interjected, “On her mother’s side I believe. The speak with each other occasionally, but aren't what you would call close.”

“She’s received commendations from the turian, salarian and asari governments.” Anderson said, ”Designated N7 by the time she was twenty. She’s made a career out of performing the impossible.”

“Yes, the ‘Skyllian Blitz’,” Udina mused. “She certainly has a flair for the dramatic it would seem.”

“She single handedly repelled a battalion.” Anderson snapped. “And that is not an exaggeration ambassador. Post action reports confirmed over three hundred hostiles in the foothills surrounding Elysium.”

“You want the best Ambassador.“ The admiral said. “She’s it.”

Udina looked down. It seems the decision had been made for him.

* * *

 

_“The Arcturus Prime Relay is in range. Initiating transmission sequence.”_

Nihlus felt rather than saw commander walk up next to him. She was impossible to miss. Her list of accomplishments was impressive enough. As where her abilities. The Spectre recalled watching a vid, it had been of poor quality likely taken with a personal omnitool, of Shepard cracking reinforced stone wall with the force of her biotic charge. Another had displayed Shepard sparing with five other marines, simultaneously, while blindfolded.

_“We are connected. Calculating transit mass and destination.”_

What had caught Nihlus off guard was her sheer physical presence. Not just her size. Though impressive. The commander was two meters tall and massed just over ninety kilos.

_“The board is green. Approach run has begun.”_

It was the respect, and in some cases awe, she received from the Normandy’s crew. That more than anything convinced him that she was the best humanity had to offer.

_“Hitting the relay in 3...2...1…”_

He hoped it was enough.


End file.
